My Mother is in my garden….. poignant reminder in a quirky pot I once bought her. She candidly confessed to me when packing up, years later, that she thought it a bit odd. But she kept it for 23 years anyway, because I gave it to her.

My Mother is in my garden …..in the cutting that I took from a frangipanni that grew in her front garden.

My Mum is in my garden … in the memorial lemon tree I planted, because she was good at citrus trees. I think the strands of grey hair I took from her hairbrush are helping it along.

My Daughter is in my Garden….Her favourite plant, Holmskoldia growing. Full of surprises, purple and blue delicate flowers in a beautiful unconventional mix like a Philip Treacy concoction, on a tough unstoppable plant.

My daughter’s in my garden … in the little hand-made Grecian pot, trailing German ivy, that she made for me at school.

Natasha’s there in my garden…. her now unused scratching post allows a hedera ivy to climb. Natasha’s there in the dwarf Mulberry tree, in memory of the first tree she may have noticed, when arriving as a kitten at her new home 18 years ago.

My Grandmothers, Alice and Doreen, are in my garden, in the love for gardening they gave me. In the seasonal snake beans I grow. And the Chinese gooseberry bushes and passion-fruit.

Dwarf blue and white agapanthus. Deep purple heliotrope ‘cherry pie’. Angelonia in deep pink, some white alyssum, sedum edged in burgundy-pink. Two dipladenia, one deep red, one white, with clear fishing line from soil to steps, so the plants will climb magically into the air, seemingly without support. Tufts of white variegated grass. Two phyllanthus multiflorus. As a backdrop to these pretty, yet strong plants, three cerise-flowering, pepper scented geraniums. These I discovered years ago in the cool Maleny hills and propagated them through several moves, to be with me in each new home, each new garden.

As I admire my new and lovely plantings while taking a Sunday-ish morning garden walk, coffee in hand, I notice something. O! This is unexpected, finding you in my bed! And yet as I look at you, I think, how well you do look.

I love when gardens surprise me. And this morning, I see, a dwarf african lily, quite past its flowering time, has made a strong, white flower stalk. And there’s much more! Suddenly my sweet, balanced garden has gone from exactly as I planned, to an interesting, challenging thing.

Yes, a slim vigorous pumpkin, or is it a rockmelon, vine – insistently, laterally twining his way. I am most fond of many lateral thinking people, so I’m delighted, if surprised to find this determined little vine in my garden. And is this not more balanced, more complete – a masculine vine to balance the planned sweet feminine garden? I move him slighty, tenderly, as he embraces, a little too passionately for now, the Angelonia. She seems grateful for this small intervention, straightening slightly. I love vines, at one moment twining closely, the next off on some funny fearless tangent.

And since this garden shows itself to be such a ferly thing, I accommodate its adventurous spirit, experimenting with Lisianthus in who knows what colour. And the rambling mystery of Colour Parade petunias..there will be some surprises there! And what about some poppy seeds? Yes, such gloriously free and surprising flowers from the far North of Europe are also bound to feel at home here in my garden, I feel. For some unexpected tomato plants I make pyramids of stakes, tied at the top so the vines can freely grow upwards.

And another unusual thing. One plant that has always flourished, used all throughout my planting life, has decided that it will cease to grow. It is gone, beyond all life. I think on this, introspection takes me over. I conclude it did not suit my new garden. Like a habit, that really has no further use in my life. Just gone. A symbol, I decide, of my firm, full resolve to leave behind an old behaviour that really does me no good all. My garden as a mirror of my self.

Can I suggest you think on your garden, real or imagined, houseplants too, as a symbol, a mirror, of yourself. Think on what you plant, and why. Who inspires your gardening, your life. Is there something unexpected in your beds? Think on your garden of the future, still in your head.

Think on what you long to plant. Maybe honeysuckle vine, symbol of loyal love and friendship? Beetroot? – Read ‘Jitterbug Perfume’ Tom Robbins on beetroot and its pollen! A bay tree, for luck and fortune? Perhaps there’s a plant taking too much time, unhealthy or difficult that simply needs to go. Or perhaps some plants just for fun, some annuals. Maybe try new plants, new ways of gardening.

Maybe make a space and wait, see what you dream of planting there.

I am for now, wondering what my vine plans next! Climbing? Perhaps investigation of a nearby garden bed? Vines are so much fun, at one moment twining closely , next moving in lateral surprising ways.

But what I do know is that while in our garden, in nature, we have time to contemplate, or not contemplate, to think, or not think – on our lives. And in this Empty Space, solutions, answers, creations, appear. And we smile and feel strong.

A story of lives and histories enmeshed with those of plants and trees, of bravery, secrets, difference, love.

Lovely plants….

Heartsease.….used in early times to ease heartache and suffering.

The flowers are edible..I float them on the top of my home-made salad dressings.

I lightly press some heartsease flowers into the dough just before I put bread into the oven to bake.

I put a couple of heartsease on the tops of lemon-cream cheese iced cupcakes. So pretty!

Purple Honeysuckle….folk-lore says that the twining flowers of honeysuckle represent loyalty in a friendship – or loveship.

My purple honeysuckle anticipates being planted and waits patiently in its pot. It’s already flowered once with pinkish beginnings , almost purple if you have an imagination which certainly I do, and deep gold flowers. It’s underplanted with sweet purple and white alyssum and new seedlings. The tag showed petunias in pink, purple and white profusion. I enjoy the mystery of petunias, that so often both the colours and scent of this plant friend surpass my imaginings of them..as do many of my human friends, in fact…

creamy yellow flowers, fragrance like ripe bananas. Perfect for us, as we are banana starved here in Queensland at present.

How lovely to discover…

Lovage growing in my potted garden. I had planted lovage after discovering some on a market trip with dear friend Effie, and frankly it had not thrived.

So I forgot about it, then was amazed to find it growing beautifully. I delicately trimmed some leaves, with thanks to the plant, and whipped up a little

LOVAGE OMELETTE

I mixed together: 2 eggs, 1 inch thick slice madhusudan paneer ( I love the sound of that, that’s why I buy it from my local Spice Shop) diced small, 1 tspn whole grain mustard, salt (not too much, My lovely Daughter says I may eat too much salt, I told her gardeners sweat so they need salt, but she may be right. She often is, and thanks to her this blog looks good again. Sorry for the delay, technology was getting the better of me. You might like to detour over to her latest post, appreciation of delicious @nonsense funnel for some dreams of loveliness), lovage, a tiny bit of marjoram, and lots of pepper.

I cooked in a small frypan oiled with Olys, a new one I bought, made from wheat germ, rice bran, blackcurrant, walnut oils.

It was delicious eaten in a leisurely manner reading ‘What I Talk About When I talk About Running.’ Haruki Murakamis running memoir, a book about how he became a writer in the same way he became a runner. I am enjoying this, and I quite definitely don’t enjoy running, but will think on this idea when on my morning walks for a while and see what I come up with…

A week ago, I developed an intense, overwhelming desire – that would not be waylaid, no matter how I tried – to make pumpkin soup. And not just from any pumpkin. This soup had to be from a pumpkin that I had grown. Oh yes. It just had to be, my dream insisted.

However, I am presently out of home-grown pumpkins, since I am ‘in transit’ and my garden consists of an ever-expanding population of potted plants. My delightfully muscular friends who move me at a regular intervals will have to really go into training to lift this lot.

Now, from my extensive gardening experiments, I believe that pumpkins will not grow well in pots. So, I had not attempted this brave task. Therefore, no pumpkins nurtured along in preparation for this time of pumpkin need. Oh dear.

So I thought, hmm, maybe it’s the orange-ish, pumpkinish colour I want. Perhaps that will satisfy?

Therefore, I decided to make carrot cake. And yes, it was delicious, with that cream cheese slightly lemony icing, that my daughter finds so delicious. (For this, you mix together 125 g spreadable cream cheese, 5 tspns butter with about 1 tblspn hot water mixed into it, icing sugar, and lemon juice, to taste. Spread on carrot cake. Thickly, but not too thick.)

A consenting adult and I enjoyed great gluttony of that carrot cake with pretty cups of tea that afternoon, with the sun warming the back patio and Natasha the Wonder Cat reclining nearby, as she does so appealingly for approximately 22-and-a- half hours of each day. We ate so much, a two-hour walk at Sandgate barely touched the extra kilos!

But, no, still I needed pumpkin soup. With a pumpkin I had grown. This thought persisted into the next few days.

I had another try, at the colour orange. I decided to make salsa. Orange Capsicum Salsa.

I very lightly fried a small red salad onion and a chopped garlic clove. Meanwhile, I chopped finely 4 small red tomatoes, an orange capsicum, one small orange chilli, coriander, a tspn Marjoram. I mixed the fried onion & garlic with the rest of ingreds, added lime juice, salt and pepper. I left it for about 5 hours to achieve perfection, then ate it with some Rosemary bread of Friendship and Forgiveness made from a recipe found in “The Villa Della Luna”.

Did you know that according to plant lore, Marjoram will help induce feelings of happiness in women? I think that’s true, Inhale the slightly sweetish smell of marjoram and feel a smile. And what of herbs to induce happiness for men? I’d love readers to tell me of their knowledge of this.

Oh yes! The Salsa was yummy, too. And a nice contrast to the carrot cake, which had left me no longing at all, for cake, for I suspect, a long time. At least next Sunday.

But, still, I thought of Pumpkin Soup. And GROWING PUMPKINS. Yes, this had now achieved Italicised Capital Letter status.

Now, for those of you who’ve just today joined my blog, and maybe haven’t (yet) read my first 2 posts…. as a Therapeutic gardener, I use gardening activities as a means of addressing the needs of people I work with. I may also use the garden as an allegory, a metaphor, when the time is right (stories of that for future blogs).

So if someone really, really wants to grow pumpkins, I would be wondering why. I would perhaps ask “Why do you need pumpkins?” And quite often, after a question like this, a story or thought that is quite telling, emerges. It may revolve around their garden history – past, present or even future. The garden is a place that can encourage a person, even someone who’s reticent, to tell, sometimes indirectly, sometimes surprisingly directly, of a need that exists. Garden allegories can be a safe way to speak.

So I wondered – why my need, my passion for Pumpkins? I thought of their velvety golden flowers. I remembered the strange other-worldly smell of pumpkin leaves. Their soft prickliness. I thought of their dusty and persistent pollen. Their spreading adventurous nature.

I thought of walking along the foreshore of Sandgate after the huge and destructive Floods of early this 2011, seeing smashed furniture, wrecked water tanks, remains of boats ripped from their moorings in Brisbane, and Pumpkins! Whole Pumpkins. I felt sorry for the farmer who had lost a whole crop, but astonished that they were intact, save for a few small dents. Are pumpkins the toughest vegetable on earth?

I remembered pumpkin vines past. My Clermont Grandmothers paddocks with pumpkin vines and paddy melons. Searching among the vines for pumpkins. What excitement when we found one, with withered stalk, ready to pick! My mothers pumpkin vines. My Brisbane grandmothers pumpkin vines. Pumpkin vines I had when my daughter was a little girl. Gosh! A considerable Pumpkin History.

glass-pumpkins

And then, suddenly, there it was. An unhappy pumpkin memory. Of a pumpkin vine that grew in my garden in Brisbane 4-ish years ago. It was gorgeous, climbing, twining, making its way forth energetically, happily. It had flowers. Then I came home and it was gone. Murdered. Such sadness. My partner decided it was untidy, unnecessary. It did not fit his obsessive need for absolute control in our garden. I hung in a while longer, but after I left him, I’ve been somewhat itinerant for a few years. I had a pleasant interlude where I house-sat a house-and-yard-full of plants (over a thousand I believe) for a friend who owned a plant hire business. But itinerant I have felt, for some time.

So what my need for pumpkins told me is that I long to find and create my own home again. A place where with family, friends, a lover, I can sit at little decrepit tables, drink Pinot grigio, or eat carrot cake, surrounded by wild pumpkin vines, purple and yellow passionfruit, ground apple, sweet potatoes, and maybe rescued battery hens, garden quirkily, grow the things I need and love. And then I will have – the pumpkins!

And did I make soup, after this epiphany? Yes, I did. I bought pumpkin and made Pumpkin Soup with Roasted Hazelnuts, my invented recipe. I invited Gordon, we ate it with grainy bread while watching the little mystery birds in the Honey Gem Grevillea in the back yard. While Natasha snoozed.

Lightly roast 1/2 cup hazelnuts. Saute an onion and a garlic clove in olive oil in a saucepan. When onion is soft, add chopped pumpkin, couple florets cauliflower, grated medium carrot, some marjoram, paprika, soya sauce, ( I used about 4 tablespoons), a little salt, pepper, enough water so water level is about 2 inches over the level of veges, and a very small sprinkle of star anise. Cook til all veges soft. Let cool a little. Blend til a grainy texture. Heat and eat.

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I keep a container of cinnamon sticks beside my computer. When I need to refocus, sharpen my attention, I take off the lid and deeply inhale its mysterious scent.

Natasha, the Wonder Cat snoozing.

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“Lilith’s Love Potion Number Eleven-and-a-Half”

I’m loving my bespoke perfume – and so are my dancing partners, hence the name I invented – created by Brisbane perfumier Margi Macdonald. She told me, ‘I thought of you dancing the quickstep, of the colour red, of vivacity. I danced as I mixed Tuberose, Guiacwood from Paraquay, coco, lime, and more. A deep, dark tone emerged, and then I added Vanilla to return the sweetness. ‘

Its gorgeous. Complex. Surprising. An alchemy of dark woody Places, rose scented smoke, almost-sweet citrus, velvet. And made entirely of natural ingredients. Margi can be found at blogsite Some Energy Thing.

Yesterday, I watered Avalene’s garden. I was alone there for the first time, because she died last Monday. She was 85. I feel sad that I can’t garden with her again. I always smiled in anticipation when I was driving to garden with her. She loved gardening and was fun to garden with, we laughed, she engaged me with her beautiful full smile, conversation, talk of her family, daughters named from the garden – Primrose and Marguerite, her son, a granddaughter in Great Britain.

Avalene’s garden was full of history….well over 55 years of history. Some she shared with me, of beloved plants, difficult plants, plants given to her by her daughters, cuttings given and found. She called me when she began to suffer lots of pain in her hands. She said she needed me so that together we could do the garden jobs she wanted to do, but couldn’t quite manage. But never did she give up. She stayed determined to always do some gardening beside me, and together we’d wheel the bin over, she’d carry plants, water, do as much as she could, while directing me. Always excited and grateful when I would bring a few plants, cuttings, offerings from my worm farm.

I remember the day Avalene found the tiny green frog, on her Strelitzia. She was very excited, as she hadn’t seen him, (perhaps her?) for quite a while. She told me to be very careful not to disturb him and maybe he sensed his safety, as he stayed unperturbed while I pruned near to him. I think of and immediately smell intense honey scent of alyssum..purple, white, pink, and some in between. Is there a specially sensitive part of our brain that remembers the scent of flowers? Does anyone know that? Please let me know if you do.

So it was sad, being there alone. Avalene’s spirit is still there though, in the mix of sweet peas, passionfruit, lettuce, chilli bush, blue plumbago, coleus, white crocus, curry plant, pink and yellow Star above Star Camellia, pink and purple bromeliads, brunsfelsia, apricot geraniums, hippeastrums, so many more. A garden as practical, as many faceted as its owner. I picked bright red chillies as a memento.

I plan to take some cuttings of her Camellia, Geranium, Banksia Rose, for her family. Then I thought of my own family, my beloved Daughter, living in Great Britain, who left to go home again only a short week ago. I thought of the lovely and varied time we had together. I also mourned her leaving, as I watered.

The garden is a good place to mourn. And a good place for comfort. Gardening is a continuous cycle of endings and beginnings and who knows which is which. Plants finish a flowering season, but are no less beautiful when deciduous or in seed. Seeds are hope and promise of more of life to come. A new plant with many possibilities – a different hue, size, flower shape. Or perhaps sown in a different place? In the Garden is always hope. Avalene’s funeral service reading had 2 lines that brought tears, yet at the same time comfort, thoughts of the future: ‘ Your heart can be empty because you can’t see her, Or you can be full of the love you share.’

I think about Avalene’s Funeral , where we gathered to honour and celebrate her life. I learned many more things about her, understood what an inspiration she was to her whole family. I admired her, still more. I ask myself, do I live my life in such a way that I will be missed and honoured as much as she was. Now, there’s something to think on. I learned that she went on road trips only a few years ago, with 2 other women, to Darwin! On the road trips they loved listening to “Bright Side of the Road” by Van Morrison. As we walked out from the Garden Chapel where her funeral service was held, we listened to that song, and felt lighter, somehow.

This is the poem written on the back of the order of service:

“Into the freedom of wind and sunshine

We let you go

Into the dance of the stars and the planets

We let you go

Into the wind’s breath and the hands of the starmaker

We let you go.” (Ruth Burgess.)

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On Saturday, I saw ‘Tree of Life” with 2 dear friends. Gosh! we talked for 3 hours afterwards-OK, not all about the film. But surely themes inspired by that…Love, loss, death, dating, food, dancing……I liked the film’s lack of dialogue, I thought it was like being in the garden with someone- where sometimes silence is more eloquent, more able to provoke thought.

In the film I enjoyed how we looked upwards through the trees branches, and looked down through the branches from above. I felt the film was perhaps partly about out our innate need for connection with nature – for comfort, solace, for answers.

Soon I will take afternoon tea with Alzira. I’m taking Thai Rice pudding….OH! The voluptuous smell of Cardoman as I stirred slowly. I could not resist eating a spoonful, OK maybe a few more!

Cardoman is such a mystery…it smells a little like eucalyptus when seeds are intact. Then when crushed and cooked, completely change to a smell that’s sultry, powerful, spicy……….

ingredients:

100g/3 & 1/2 ounces arborio rice

1 cardamon pod, split, and seeds crushed.

300ml/7 fl Oz coconut cream

150ml/10 fl oz water

2 tablespoons honey

coconut flakes and 1 tblspn flaked almonds – to decorate top.

Method:

Put all ingredients except those for decoration, in a saucepan. Stir slowly and constantly till all liquid is absorbed and rice is tender.

Serve warm, with decorations on top. You can serve alongside mixed berries. Definitely serve with cream (or yoghurt if you are feeling very virtuous.)

And….this cutting from a magazine mysteriously appeared on the wall above my computer…“Every act of Creation is first an act of destruction.” Pablo Picasso . To my daughter, who put that here for me to find….thank you for that inspiration.

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